Recognize
by Blau
Summary: No one knew Sam better than Dean. [character death, slight insanity. oneshot]


**Quite honestly, I have no idea where this came from. I watched the show last night and it was with all the demons possessing people, and the idea of how the Winchester brothers couldn't know who was possessed kind of appealed to me. So. **

**Should there be any OOCness, keep in mind I have only seen five episodes. So no, the characters aren't perfectly in character, but I tried.**

**Dedicated to Thymine**

**Undetermined prize for those who guess what songs the radio played.**

* * *

Hop, hop.

Soft-spoken words of an exorcism, the thrashing of a body as the demon tried to remain inside it's host. The chair rattled, scraped against the floor, became still as a scream ruptured through the air and a cloud of black permeated the surrounding area. And then, silence.

Soft pants, the rustling of clothing.

"You okay?"

"Yeah." A cringe as a finger probed a newly agitated bruise. An exhale of breath. "This is wiping me out, Dean."

"I know," a hand ran through blood-matted hair, brown eyes flickering at the door, the windows. "We should go before we attract any attention."

Footsteps, the floorboard creaking in protest, before it stopped. A turn, more rustling of clothing. A small gasp, and Dean turned, eyebrow raised.

"Sammy? You coming?"

"Yeah. Sorry."

Hop, hop.

* * *

"You've barely eaten anything," Dean admonished, pausing as he inhaled his TV dinner of cold turkey and blazingly hot mashed potatoes. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Naw," Sam said, eyes never leaving the worn out book in front of him. "So what now? Where to?"

Another pause, brow furrowed as Dean squinted at his brother. "Nothing. We're taking a break."

"That's not like you."

"Can't do much if we're injured, Sam."

Silence once again as a form brushed against Styrofoam and the pages of the book flipped.

* * *

As they drove, Dean couldn't help but notice Sam was a little… well, antsy. He fidgeted with the radio dial, fidgeted in his seat, kept glancing from the side window to the front window to the mirror so he could see behind them.

"You okay?"

_"…where did the time go?" _The dial was turned.

A twitch, eyes flickering towards Dean. It was a quick glance, but Dean noted that Sam's eyes were so dilated one could only see the pupils.

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"…_I'm ready to fade out…" _Twisted the other way, static filling the air for a moment.

"Positive."

"_I've got to get you out of me…" _Click.

A turn of the knob as the radio was finally shut off. Dean ignored Sam's frantic glance.

* * *

Now that they were off the road, Sam was a lot more eager to get Dean to go visit a dance club with him.

"You said it yourself we can't do anything if we're hurt, so we might as well, right?" Sam said, a grin on his face that looked like it belonged on someone else. Staring at his brother, Dean shook his head.

"It's a waste of time, Sam. Maybe when this is all over."

"Please, Dean. We have to go. I need you to…" those brown eyes wide, hands gripping his shirt sleeve. It reminded Dean of when they were kids, when Sam would ask Dean for the sugary cereal and instead get the healthy stuff.

"Fine."

Sam always did get his way.

* * *

"You're not Sam, are you?"

A blink, a bemused look on Sam's face as he turned towards Dean only to be met with the barrel of a gun.

"Dean?" he whispered. "What are you doing?"

"Sam hates clubs. Too much drug use, he says."

A broken look on Sam's face as he gaped at his brother. Dean kept his eyes on Sam, hand never trembling. Seeing he was serious, "Sam" grinned and laughed, folding his arms in front of his chest.

"So I borrowed his body. You can't get rid of me, you know. Not unless you want to lose your dear brother."

"Get out of him." Not a request, a demand.

"I like it here," 'Sam' pouted. "There's so much pain. Did you know Sammy was hurting so much? He's crying right now, you know? How's it feel, knowing you can't do anything to help him?"

"Shut up."

"He sees the gun and he thinks you're really going to shoot, because you shot those other two. He _wants_ you to shoot-"

"Shut up!"

"-has such a strong sense of duty, doesn't he? He doesn't want anyone else to get possessed, so he's willing to sacrifice himself. It won't help, you know. There's a lot more than just me. I know you won't shoot; you can't shoot your beloved brother," the demon continued, ignoring Dean's threats. "He's all you live for, isn't he? You should have taken better care of him, Winchester. It was so easy to just slip in and take over, you know? I won't give him up-"

A gunshot, smoke trailing from the end of the gun as the enchanted bullet pierced Sam's chest, an electrical current-looking thing showing momentarily before it faded, leaving a dying body in its wake.

Another thud, as Dean dropped to his knees.

"I'm sorry…"

* * *

It was better this way, Dean thought as he dug the grave for his brother. There were no tear tracks on his face, because he had not cried. He kept telling himself it was better Sam was dead; then he wouldn't have to worry about Sam getting hurt, Sam getting possessed, Sam getting taken away from him.

Besides. He almost shot his father. What difference was shooting his brother?


End file.
